New Zealand and Charles James
by Kuiakaituhi
Summary: What happens when Molly admires a former Bath rugby player? Do a former All Black and a French Bleu turn Charles green with envy? Or could this lead to an adventure in Aotearoa?
1. Chapter 1

New Zealand and Charles James

 **This is my first fanfiction piece. Like a lot of Antipodeans, I did not know of this series until it arrived on our screens earlier this year. In conversations with male colleagues who watched the series, I discovered an admiration for Molly's gutsiness, bravery and beauty as well as a respectful and somewhat apprehensive regard for her ability to deal to the Smurfs of the world, AND the Charles's too. In NZ, we women would likely call her 'stroppy' and cheer her on. S**

 **The women I've talked to mostly agree with me that his hotness is his best quality when it comes to Captain CJ. For most of us, nostalgia rules. It is a very long time ago that there were real CJ's in my world. Trust me, they were there and it's nice to have my memory jogged… and to smile when I do remember them.**

 **Of course these characters from Our Girl belong to the supremely talented Mr Tony Grounds and the BBC. Some others I have mentioned are real soldiers and rugby players. The All Black team for this year's RWC was announced here recently and I am hoping that the management team remember to take a few spare players' jerseys this time. The Beaver story DID happen….**

 **We have three official languages in New Zealand, English, Maaori and New Zealand Sign. I use key Maaori terms because they are the correct words.**

CHAPTER 1 Decision Time and a Bath Rugby Story

Captain Charles James was well aware that he was putting off making some pretty important choices. If he were really honest, he would admit that his primary focus for the past few months had been Molly, specifically his obsession with getting her into their bed as often as possible. He was besotted with her and acknowledged freely to himself that all his physical and psychic energy was being focused on their passionate, frequent and still thrilling lovemaking. If even a small amount of that energy could be diverted into decision making, he would not be avoiding either the issue of his return to work or communication with his superior officers such as Beck. He really did need to focus!

Rehabilitation had gone exceptionally well and he was feeling increasingly confident that he would soon be able to take up a more active role in the military than he had thought possible only a few short months ago. Major Beck had refused to accept Charles' letter of resignation from his commission until a clearer picture emerged of his physical capacity after his wounds healed.

As well, he had needed time to deal with the internal stuff…even the toughest, most experienced officer could not come through such traumatic events as those Charles had experienced without emotional and psychological effects. Of course he had been fragged but the bad dreams, unwanted daytime flashbacks and disorientation of the first few months of his recovery were less troublesome with each passing day. At Headley Court he had learned the value of talking therapy, having been referred to a psychologist with special skills in helping soldiers deal with PTSD.

Molly and he had grown ever closer after her return from mentoring Afghan medics. She had charmed his mother and father from the minute they had met her. Her lack of guile, energy and strong moral compass impressed them; the easy and comfortable relationship she was building with Sam, their grandson, warmed their hearts. Most of all they saw how complete and joyful Molly and Charles were together and how much in love. This tiny, brave Cockney medic had saved their beloved son's life and helped mend his heart which had been so damaged by his painful divorce. Number 20 Royal Crescent was full of laughter, teasing and hope for the future. It was as if all their lives were starting over.

And yet Charles still felt restless and unfocussed some days. Unwilling to make the contact he had promised, he had not spoken to Beck because he was really not yet ready to talk about his return or otherwise to active service. He could not find the drive and passion which had so characterized his army career before his injuries. Molly was worrying about him.

"You might gonna need to have a holiday, Boss," she suggested. "You didn't have any Cyprus like the rest of us. You haven't had time to decompress, just hospital and Headley Court. Go out with your friends a bit. Have some fun, for fuck's sake."

Ever a dedicated Rugby man, Charles had finally talked Molly into a Saturday afternoon outing at the Bath Rugby Club. There was a family day coming up to celebrate the 150th birthday of the club and a good few of his former team mates would be there, he thought. Sam was growing upwards rapidly and it was looking as if he would be at least as tall as his Dad before long: he was showing real promise as a forward in his age grade team with a talent for lineout jumping. Charles looked forward to supporting Sam on the sideline, now that his own leg was much stronger for standing and watching sport.

Molly found Rugby both confusing and boring, being a West Ham football supporter all her life. Sam had pleaded with her to watch him in what was a very important game and she had agreed to go, seeing this as another way to strengthen the bonds growing between the three of them. While she conceded that supporting her men at a rugby match was just tolerable, wearing the Bath supporters' shirt that Charles had bought for her was, however, a bridge too far!

Over the season that followed the three of them went to all of the games that Sam played at the home ground. Sometimes they met up with Rebecca and her new husband, sometimes they were accompanied by Charles' dad, Richard, who loved to watch his grandson play as much as he had enjoyed watching his son in earlier times.

Late in August 2015, great excitement was evident in the club. The World Cup was due to start in a couple of weeks, the English team had just been announced and six Bath boys had been selected in the national squad of thirty-one. Even Molly was feeling the buzz. Charles' friends and their wives and girlfriends had very quickly made her a welcome part of their social set and she reluctantly owned to enjoying the atmosphere of the place.

Charles' friends had let him know that they found Molly to be very attractive…he still wrestled with jealous feelings from time to time. Who wouldn't? She was an amazing, beautiful, brave woman and he so much in love with her that he could still not so much as brush past her without feeling overwhelmed by his physical need for her. He could not countenance any thought that another man would so much as look at her, let alone lust after her or touch her.

Molly knew how to tease Charles mercilessly and on this particular day commented as she had before on the rather large portrait of the good looking, dark haired New Zealand Rugby player on the wall. She commented on his muscular frame and the fact that his All Black jersey seemed short and tight…dead sexy, she reckoned and laughed knowingly at the nickname under the portrait. Beaver? There was a second photo of him in a better fitting Bath club jersey. Beaver….now where did that come from, she wondered out loud, along with approving comments about how very appealing his legs were. Charles was furious with her but his friend Simon, who understood Charles' struggles with jealousy were because of his insecurities about the possibility of losing her, calmed him down somewhat then told her Beaver's story.

Apparently he had been an All Black who had fallen out of favour because he was erratic and drove the rugby public insane with his unpredictable form. He had been left out of the last New Zealand Rugby World Club squad and had spent the time while the tournament was being played in his home country drinking beer, having fun and catching whitebait, a prized local delicacy. He had gotten a bit podgy around the middle,having watched the Cup games from his sofa rather than play in them. Towardfs the business end of the tournament, several All Blacks had been injured, specifically those who could kick goals. Stephen Donald , to give him his real name, was famously contacted by the All Black coach who had been furiously texting him while he was out of range on the Waikato river.

Stephen was asked to bring himself and any whitebait he might have caught to the Auckland hotel where the team was staying. The chefs would cook the tiny fish as a treat for the team. As for him, he was required for the Final match against Thierry Dusautoir's French team. There were no All Black jerseys in his size left throughout the land and no time to make any more, so he would need to borrow the smaller one he wore in the photo on the Bath Rugby Club wall. A photo of Dusuatoir next to that of Beaver also drew Molly's loud and appreciative approval together with comments about his desirability, bedroom eyes and probable French lovemaking expertise. Charles was purple with rage by this stage: Simon recognized the piss-take and was howling with laughter.

The upshot of the Stephen Donald story was that he had kicked the winning points, had become a New Zealand national hero overnight, Dusautoir and the French were left defeated and distraught, and the Bath Rugby Club had signed Beaver up to play for the next season. Beaver's time there had been unspectacular, to say the least, and he was currently headed back home, via an equally mediocre sojourn at a Japanese club. He was said to be looking forward to playing for the Chiefs again, drinking New Zealand beer and more whitebaiting on the Waikato River.

CHAPTER 2 Ngati Tumatauenga – Tribe of the God of War

Something about this New Zealand story stuck with Molly. In Afghanistan, when mentoring local medics, she had met a Kiwi girl who had served with the New Zealand Army in Bamyan Province and was also mentoring Afghan medics. Their job had been very similar to that carried out by the British in Hellmand and these two young women had struck up a friendship based on their common experiences as Army medics.

Karena the Kiwi had invited Molly to New Zealand any time she and James felt like a break and some new experiences. Quietly, Molly contacted her friend and did some research on things to do and places to go if only she could talk the Bossman into taking a break, having some fun and refocusing on his next moves.

As well, she knew that Karena's training as a New Zealand Army medic had been longer and more comprehensive than hers. Her friend was well on the way to completing a degree in paramedical studies, something that Molly had been thinking about for herself. She would be able to investigate Karena's military training, meet some of her mates and have a good look around.

She had found out from Karena that 2015 was a very special year in New Zealand history, particularly from a military point of view. The centenary of the ANZAC landings in Gallipoli was commemorated in April. Many thousands of Kiwis and Aussies made the pilgrimage to the Dardanelles, this arrival of thousands having become an annual rite of passage for young people from both countries. At home, dawn ceremonies were attended by ever increasing crowds, permanent memorials were opened and Sir Peter Jackson's startling life size Western Front Exhibition had opened in Wellington. There were other anniversaries: the end of the war in the Pacific in 1945, the famous Maori Battalion's stand at Monte Cassino.

The training base for new recruits was, Karena reported, at Waiouru In the middle of the North Island. In its vicinity were the exceptional National War Museum, three volcanos which rumbled from time to time and some seriously good ski fields. For a military couple it would be easy to make contact with staff at Waiouru and to work out some excellent r& r. They had money left from their last Afghan deployments. All that was necessary was to talk Charles into the holiday, to get bookings made and to get gone as fast as possible.

Convincing Charles might be easier if she laid it on thick about the upcoming lack of bedroom time once they were redeployed. Their relationship, now in the public domain and acknowledged by Major Beck, meant that they would be going separate ways for months at a time. To honest, she did not know how she would cope with this enforced "waiting out" any better than Charles would. They were so perfect together, as if their bodies had been made to fit one another's, their hearts aligning more each time they made love. And this was what happened when they were together, alone. Not sex, not what she had teased Charles about with the photos of the Rugby boys. They were engaged in making a love that would sustain and nourish them when they were apart as well as thrill and surprise them with its intensity and variety each time they touched one another.

Molly chose her time well to broach the subject of the holiday in New Zealand. Charles had just read an article in a military publication about Willie Apiata and had expressed his admiration for the courage shown by this first recipient of the Victoria Cross for New Zealand. The act of bravery had been in Bamyan Province, Afghanistan in 2007: when Charles read the citation he realized there was little difference between Apiata's achievement and that of Molly who had received the Military Cross for saving a wounded comrade in a situation of extreme risk to her personal safety. He would like to meet this man who had since left the military and had dropped out of sight. It would be an adventure to go looking for the soldier and to introduce him to Molly. They would undoubtedly have a lot in common, but not in physical terms. Photographs from the time of the award were of a huge man, bearded and long haired who could easily pass for Taliban and who looked rather like Sohail.

So, Charles agreed that a trip to New Zealand was a possibility. It would need to happen immediately; who knew when new orders for deployment might arrive for Molly, or an order for him to present himself to Beck? Oh, and there was the matter of the Rugby World Cup happening in Britain in a few weeks' time . He needed to be back for that: the Bath boys were going to help destroy the All Blacks and he wanted to watch that…

 **I'm not sure whether this will appeal to Northern hemisphere readers and lovers of CJ and/or Molly.**

 **Your feedback would be appreciated whether you come from there or closer to my home, in the Waikato, New Zealand.**

 **I plan to follow them in NZ if enough of you are interested… and if Molly can talk him into the trip**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 The Other Side of the World

Half an hour ago Charles and Molly had walked across the tarmac at Auckland International Airport then breezed through customs in five minutes, probably because both of their passports made it abundantly clear that they were military personnel who had been deployed in some very difficult places. They were to be met by Molly's friend, Karena the Kiwi in an hour or thereabouts, so settled on a coffee in James' case and a tea in Molly's while they began to orientate themselves to their new surroundings.

A look at the headlines in a local paper would probably give them some idea of what was going on in New Zealand, so he dropped some coins into an honesty box, picked up the Herald and sat down in the coffee bar, waiting to give their order to the busy waitress. He shook the paper open and could not believe what he was seeing on the front page. Fuck! He had come thousands and thousands of kilometres across the globe because of this bloody tosser, who this time was wearing a yellow, red and black striped rugby jersey, not a Bath one or an All Black one.

The photograph captured Beaver in full flight, kicking the ball high into the air. "Fuck this!" he muttered, "Why does he have to be the first person to catch my attention in this bloody country?"

"Who you talking about, Bossman?" asked Molly , snatching the paper off him and bursting into fits of laughter as she recognised the legs she had admired in the Bath Rugby Club. "He's playing tomorrow night in Hamilton… I wonder how far away that is?" She sniggered as she noticed Charles slipping into his signature sulk as she read the headline out loud. "Donald Expected to Come Off the Bench". Molly really did enjoy teasing him… "Hmmmm,"she continued, gazing distractedly past him, "I wonder if…?"

"Kia ora, Molly!" A tall, fit looking young Maaori woman threw her arms around his wife who had jumped up at the sound of her friend's voice. They hugged and cried at the same time. Charles was reminded of Molly's ability to draw people to her, to create friendships with ease, often in contrast with his own diffidence in situations where he was not sure of himself or of others. He had often thought that this comfort in the company of diverse people probably had its origins in her inner London background with all its cultural influences. And, of course, she grew up in a large, noisy family in contrast to his rather more reserved boyhood as an only child who had gone to boarding school at an early age.

Charles noticed a very large man hanging back as the two women greeted one another with such joy. Smiling, he held his hand out to Charles and introduced himself. "Kia ora, I'm Tai, her husband. Good to meet you, mate." He was taller than James, solid and looked very fit. From what little Molly knew and had told him about Karena's husband, Charles remembered that he was an officer in the army, though he was not sure of Tai's rank. Tai was also, he recalled, a more than capable rugby forward now retired from active play, but coaching a team at the army training base in Waiouru.

Introductions all around followed, the two men gathered up the luggage and they headed out to Tai's Land Rover. Molly and Charles were staying with Karen and Tai for their first night in New Zealand: they would talk about plans for the rest of their three week holiday tomorrow. Whatever they decided to do, they would have the use of the Land Rover to get around in. They were very touched by their hosts' generosity in arranging such excellent transport for them to take them on their adventure.

As they pulled out of the airport and headed towards the motorway, Tai told them that they were heading south towards his home town, Hamilton, and that two motel units had been booked for the night. New Zealand motels, he said, were rather like Travel Lodges, which he had stayed in when he had last been in England a couple of years age, just before he and Karena had married.

Molly and Charles exchanged knowing grins, remembering the time not so long ago when his parents had gone to Lake Garda, ensuring that their house would be empty for Charles and Molly to spend time together. That had meant that the Travel Lodge which Molly had tentatively booked for them, knowing exactly what she and Charles would be doing after their lunch date in Bath, was not needed! Charles was pretty sure his parents were also well aware of what they would be doing…and approved, without coming out and saying so.

"I've arranged a bit of a treat for your first night, Charles," Tai announced. "Karena told me you're a rugby man, a Bath supporter. And Molly, she told me you are football mad. How does that work for you guys?"

"She is that. She used to mock me with her West Ham supporters' jersey that she wore every chance she got on tour in Afghanistan," replied Charles. "All of them in the platoon talked football after every weekend. Used to bloody drive me nuts."

"Things are a bit it different in New Zealand, Molly," Karena chimed in. "Rugby's not for posh people like in England. No offence, Charles," she added hurriedly. "It's a bit of a reversal really and Rugby crowds are a lot like what you get at your Hammer games, I expect. So, Tai and me, we got some tickets for Waikato Stadium tonight."

"Yep, Waikato's playing Southland. A lot of our best players have already left for your country in the All Blacks team, but some pretty classy youngsters and a few older dudes are playing here tonight. Thought we'd give you an easy introduction to an essential part of Kiwi culture. A night rugby match. It'll be bloody freezing …wrap up warm. Oh and by the way, there'll be a little bit of home for you, Charles. There's a player…"

Charles knew, he fucking KNEW, what was coming! That tosser was haunting him, all the way from Bath to New Zealand.

"There's this fella. You might have heard he won us the World Cup last time…Stephen Donald…he's come home and they reckon he's going to play for the last bit of the game tonight, It'll be a real laugh. He's a hero to us and he used to play for your Bath lot. Did you ever meet him?" Molly sounded as if she was about to explode, she was having such trouble holding her laughter in.

"Don't ask!" she howled with mirth as both Tai and Karen sensed the undercurrent and looked to her for an explanation. "It'll probably start World War 3 if I tell you". Charles was very quiet and had turned a recognisable shade of purple. It was obvious that he was struggling to hold himself in check.

Their tickets were excellent, right in the middle of the main stand, in front of the area where a series of very fit young men warmed up, stretched out and generally strutted about before being called onto the field at various stages of the match. Wildly enthusiastic Waikato fans shook the cow bells which made the signature sound of Waikato rugby, chants alternated with the bells and the sea of red, black and yellow surged in Mexican waves. "Beaverrrrr,"the call went out. "BeavAH! BEEEvah!" There were lots of ways to turn the name into a battle cry.

Charles was appalled. This was nothing like the genteel Bath rugger crowd which clapped nicely and cheered politely! Molly was in her element…this was just like the atmosphere at West Ham's stadium, even if it was Rugby, not football. Loud, cheerful, funny!

And there he was in front of them, warming up, hamming it up, stretching, posturing, grinning in response to the announcers who were working the crowd into a frenzy in anticipation of his taking the field. He was the Golden Boy, returned to the fold, after all! It was obvious the coaches had no intention of letting him on before the score line indicated a victory was in the bag. He was clearly not the force of four years ago at the World Cup and he HAD been seen whitebaiting the week before. Molly joined in the raucous cheering as he finally joined the team with six minutes to go till full time. Tai and Karena screamed their approval.

Beaver's very watchable legs stretched out as he raced into his number 10 position, old ladies in the crowd smiled and Molly elbowed Charles in the ribs. As he turned indignantly towards her, ready to berate her for once again ogling Beaver, she treated him to the most enormous, deliberate wink.

"Beaver! BeeeVAH!" she called and then burst into uproarious laughter. "Come on, Bossman. See the funny side of it," she said, as she slipped her hand into his. He squeezed back and began to smile…


	3. Chapter 3

_I work fulltime so can only write in the weekends. A bit of a hassle really, because these two have been in my ear constantly over the past week, wanting to have a very pressing and frank discussion about chemistry, bodies (theirs' and others') and green eyed monsters. In New Zealand we have a variety of monsters that are very important to us, called taniwha, some of them green. There are heaps of them in the Waikato River, for example. Non-kiwi readers might like to look taniwha up online._

 _CJ and Molly really do need to get this stuff sorted so they can get on with their expanded holiday opportunities for play of one kind or another, so here goes… Some hot action involved, folks, as we lead into the discussion part in the next chapter._

Chapter 3. Waiting Out for Too Long

After match drinks were a pretty subdued affair for the four of them and the couples quickly decided to call it a night. Molly and Charles felt jetlagged after the long flight from England, really wanting showers, bed and each other, not necessarily in that order. Once they were in the door of the unit where they had dropped their bags before the game, their clothes came off in near record time.

"Double away to the bathroom, Dawsey", growled Charles, instantly hard as he watched her strip off her lacy white knickers. "I'm having you in the shower in about two minutes." He kissed her lightly on her neck, on the spot which only he knew was an instant trigger to arouse her, as they got into the shower and warm water flowed over them. "We're not waiting! I want you right now…"

"Hell, you are so incredibly wet!" he hissed into her ear as his fingers stroked between her legs. Molly blushed, still a little shocked at the power Charles had to make her ready for him so quickly.

"You do that to me, "she whispered, "It's almost embarrassing how much my body wants you inside me… I can't help it! I love it…." He lifted her till she could wrap her legs around his waist and her arms could grip the curls at the base of his neck. With a sharp intake of breath and a groan of pleasure emanating from his core, he entered her, hard and urgent, as she strained to have him connect with every possible part of her. This time it was very fast: it was almost two whole days since they last had one another and waiting out had been just too long for them both…..

As Molly came with a high, keening cry of joy, James growled again, but louder and viscerally as he spilled into her for a very long time, holding tight, moving in a triumphant rhythm, calling out to her,

"Molly, "he gasped, his breathing ragged and uneven as he pulled out of her," I love you! I didn't have a clue I could love so much… Only you, Molly. You've been all I've wanted…. since Afghan…since I first saw you, I think. I love you so much….!"

Gently, he lowered her to the floor of the shower, washed her hair and stroked her shoulders, pausing to kiss the back of her neck. She shivered,

"No more just now, Bossman! I love it when you go so strong and fast with me sometimes… not every time, though." She was a bit bemused at finding she had liked Charles being dominant. "I do like it a little bit rough, I think…but I need to come down a bit now."

He washed his own hair, turned off the water and reaching for a fluffy white towel, dried Molly's body gently. She noticed the wicked grin starting at the corners of his mouth and his lazy glance at her still wrapped in the towel. Opening her suitcase, he rummaged around until he found a pair, a very skimpy pair, of black shorts, THOSE shorts and a red tank top, both of which he had packed when she was not looking.

"I'm going into the next room and you're putting those on and then you're turning your back to the door and drying your hair and I'm….."

Molly caught on immediately. She gave Charles the look and the laugh, knowing and incredibly sexy, that he would always remember from their Bath lunch date. He called it "The Travelodge Special", Molly's response to his telling her his parents had gone to Italy leaving their house vacant and available. She had accused him of luring her there, he had wanted to know if his ploy had worked. Yes, it had, big time, and he hoped that what he had planned now would work just as well.

Giving her time to get the shorts and top on, he dressed in a pair of light trainer pants only, his chest and feet bare, his curls still wet. Out of her travel pack he pulled a marker pen and put it in his pocket. He went to the door, padding silently on his feet. No longer needing to pretend, he hungrily took in her strong, straight back, her narrow waist and tight shapely arse. Remembering how he had been totally disarmed by her beauty the first time, he waited for a minute or two, watching her towel dry her long brown hair, before he spoke…

"In a minute I want you to turn around and we are not going to talk about anything but us. Not Bashira, not Rolex Boy. You're going to let me look at you as I so wanted to the day you went on leave. Then I want you to sit on that camp bed, just like you did before, Dawesy, in the corner, so I can come and kneel on the floor beside you."

Caught up in this new script, Molly followed the instructions wordlessly, noticing his obvious arousal as soon as she turned and the gleam in his brown eyes and the way he bit down on his lower lip.

"Are you checking me out?" he breathed softly. "I'm looking right at you and what I see is driving me crazy. Sit down now, Molly." Pulling the felt tip from his pocket, he went on, "No Rosabaya, not this time. This is what I really wanted to say then. And now." Taking her arm, he wrote slowly and deliberately '

"I WANT YOU. NOW." and he held her hand lightly, touching her fingers gently, looking into her eyes, asking her, "Please, stay with me." There was no need for Molly to change her words, not at all.

"I will, don't worry!" Taking a deep breath, Charles leaned into her, tucking her head under his chin and running his fingers through her fragrant brown hair. She stroked his chest and his shoulders and kissed his neck with soft, undemanding lips. "Boss," she murmured, "I love your strong back and how it feels to be close to your heart when you hold me against your chest. I knew back then that you wanted to hold me and kiss me. I wanted to do the same. That's when I knew I was in love with you, when you wrote "Rosabaya" on my arm. I like what you put there better this time. I love you, Charles James, so much. I love you more every day."

He picked her up and carried her to bed. "There's just one thing, though," she said. "We're on our own for a while, just us. We need to talk about all the stuff we haven't said because we've been avoiding it by getting into the pit. And making love all over the place all the time…"

"What do you mean? Don't you want to make love? What's the problem?"

"Well, the green eyed monster, for a start. No one could make love like we did tonight and all our other nights and think that someone like Beaver could ever be important to me…or you. I want to know why you get jealous all the time. Let's do a lot of talking while we drive around Charles, cos I love you so much and I want it to be all good for us. I promise I won't tease any more, if you like. Come closer, but not Bossman this time. Just be Charles, slow and sexy, please."

 _Thanks for the feedback! And the suggestions. Kiwi readers, how do think Molly would go with Tane Mahuta? Or any others of our NZ trees? Can we change her opinion about trees? Could she go into the bush with Willie Apiata? And Charles, of course. Suggest readers search for the Apiata warrior photo. Who does he look like?_


	4. Chapter 4

_I couldn't get these two out of the bedroom this week, so this is a bit hot. Perhaps once they're on the road, things will settle a bit. The Rugby World Cup has started, so Charles will probably have some disrupted sleep if he watches late games in pubs with loud and uncouth Kiwi rugby fans.I wonder how Molly will take that. They're also going to visit a rather famous tree, one that has literary connections with England, so what with Molly's dislike of trees and Charles' love of poetry, there could be potential for some friction._

Chapter 4 Gentle on My Mind

"Turn over, Charles," urged Molly. "I want to touch your beautiful back. Did you know I used to wait for you to turn your back to me and to walk away when we were on tour? That was so I could imagine me pulling your shirt off over your head and stroking and kissing down your spine. And, just like this, feeling your muscles and winding my fingers in the curls on the back of your neck…." He moaned softly, a subtle quiver quickly transforming itself into a shudder of excitement as Molly continued pleasuring his back. With light butterfly kisses, she nuzzled into his neck and shoulders whilst she stroked the backs of his thighs, barely reaching them because of his sheer length.

Molly was grateful that he was so much bigger than her. When he lifted her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her thick, dark hair which he insisted she let loose when they were making love, she felt utterly cared for and protected. Tucking her head underneath his chin, she would wait to feel the beat of his heart and then focus intently on slowing her own until she could match her heart with his. The first time Charles noticed her concentration and asked what she was doing, he was touched deeply by her need to get so very close to him. They had created a ritual now in which they consciously merged their hearts, a quiet, gentle few minutes of concentrated and pure love.

Although by now he was intensely aroused by Molly's attention to his back, Charles rolled over, shuffled up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard and lifted her into his arms. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw how hard he was and she asked, "How you gonna wait out with THAT?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm going to try," he whispered. "I guess I heard what you said about not me always being Bossman and wanting me to be slower and softer sometimes. Come here and let me hold you and we can do our heart thing. That's if you want to?" He was surprised at the ease with which he could allow his arousal to just be there, his erection to abate a little, temporarily, while he and Molly held one another, just loving, just focussing on the peace and joy of their heart connection and their slow rhythmic breathing together. He thought that what they had created was a kind of shared mindfulness.

Who knew how long they spent in their almost dream state? Eventually, Molly stretched and rolled onto the bed and Charles leaned over her, taking her face into his long, slender fingers and smoothing her hair back from her forehead. He kissed her lightly on each eyelid and laid his head on her flat belly as she spoke hesitantly. "You know, Charles, before I went in the Army I had some really rumpty boyfriends…the one I was with last was Artan and he and my Dad tried to jack up a money arrangement so that I would marry him and my Dad could get a ticket to keep on getting 'the sick'. They were treating me like a piece of property to sell. I s'pose that might be part of why I got so angry and worried about Bashira being promised to be married at only eleven. I dunno, really. Here I am," she laughed as Charles took her left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, "talking about Bashira when there's more important things to do. I've just got something I've been leading up to saying to you. I'm nearly there, so if you can just listen for a little bit more, I'll shut the fuck up and we can attend to this." She stroked his rigid cock gently, "And this. I'm getting very wet. Let's wait out just a little bit..?"

"God, Molly don't tease me too much…I need you. What do you want to say?"

'Artan used to want to touch me on my face all the time and I really didn't like it. I hated it. In the end I yelled at him to never touch me there again and that I didn't want to marry him or to even be with him and he yelled back at me and called me all sorts of names and I was glad because I knew it was over and I never wanted anyone to touch my face again! Till you, Charles, till you came along and four times you touched my face and four times I knew that you loved me. And I haven't told you before even though we are married and everything…

There was the time when Sohail died, when you comforted me and held my face in the hospital and looked into my eyes…"

"Yeah, that wasn't long after you asked me if I loved you when you followed me to the body under the sheet. Boy, that was tricky, Molly. I didn't know what to do or say then. Or later that day, but I did know I was gone, hopelessly in love with you. Which I why I want to show you how much, right now…." His body was quivering again with his need for her, but he willed himself to be still, to wait out a little longer.

"Then you held my face in your hands when we kissed the first time and it felt so gentle and right. And then again when I came to visit you in hospital and you said we didn't have to wait any more you touched my face. And the best time of all, when we made love for the first time in Bath, You were so soft and I was sure you loved me when you stroked my hair and face before we kissed, Charles. And you've healed me from hating being touched, so long as it's you doing it. And I wanted to tell you that and to wait out while I did because I want you to know how much it means to me and how much I love you."

"I know, Molly, I know. And I feel the same. Now come here and let me touch you in lots of places, starting here…" He slipped two fingers into the warm folds between her thighs and gasped when he realised how wet she was. Had speaking about being touched by him aroused her even more than usual? And without the need for him to do much more than listen? He certainly was very hard and desperate to enter her.

He found her clit, slick and hot and swollen, circling around it whilst he licked her nipples, one after the other. Her back arched as she sought to make his fingers enter her. Charles was so hard that he feared he would explode and he pinched the top of his cock to encourage it to subside, just a little. Picking Molly up from his lap and kneeling on the floor, he laid her on her back on the bed, spreading her legs wide and licking, licking from her breasts down her midriff, along the centreline of her belly, stopping as he climbed onto the bed between her legs. Holding her wide open with his hands, he licked her hard, circling his tongue around her clit. With a quick movement he sucked it into his mouth and flicked his tongue back and forth over it.

Molly had her fist in her own mouth and arched her back even further to meet Charles' tongue. He was aware that she was coming, very hard, as her eyes glazed oved, her head reared right back and she began to tremble uncontrollably. A high pitched keening came from her, a sound he had heard before when he knew that he had helped her to an intense and overwhelming orgasm.

It was time for him, now. Charles moved up the bed and slowly guided his cock into Molly, pausing at her entrance, before plunging deep into her, filling her up and feeling her hot, damp walls. She bucked and shook, encouraging him, egging him on and he thrust. Finding a rhythm was easy but slowing down was not. He had been listening and waiting out long enough. His cock spasms went on for a very long time as his whole body shuddered in ecstasy, almost to the point of pain, "Molly!" he called. "Molly, I'm coming so hard. Molly, I love you."

"Me too. I've come so much. You do that to me, Charles. How do you do that? I've never come so hard before you! I love you, too."

He lowered himself as his orgasm subsided and gently kissed her on her cheeks. Both panted as they came down and smiled at one another.

"If that's what waiting out while we talk does, I'm keen to do it again." Charles grinned as he stretched and yawned, catlike and lithe. "But not for a while. That's twice tonight!"

Molly flicked at his ear with her fingertips. "Oi! Take me seriously. I really needed you to hear me. I want you to get it that I really do love you. There's no need for you to be jealous of anyone else. You touching my face with love changed something painful for me, Charles. Why would I ever want to lose someone who can do that for me?"

He smiled, reached over and turned out the light. "We really need to sleep now. Tai and Karena are going to meet us for breakfast in the morning and wise us up about some stuff to do. Then we're off on our own to explore New Zealand."

 _This is part of my fist fanfiction, so I find it very helpful to have you read and review. Thanks to those of you who have done so!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 SBW, then off to LOTR

 _This chapter came out of the blue, mostly as the result of an email about the "discovery" of SBW by some Mum'sNet people on the other side of the world. Of course Molly and the rest of you can look, but he's OURS! Nah, he is married with a small daughter and lives not too far from where I do, as does the coach of the Welsh team, in the offseason. Thank you, email sender, you're in this chapter. I love your work...makes me lol._

What the fuck was he doing in the Redoubt Bar, Matamata, Waikato, New Zealand at 10.00am on a Sunday morning? He was watching the English Rugby team getting done by the Welsh in the pool play of the rugby World Cup, that's what! What was even worse than being beaten by the leeky tossers was the way he was being rinsed by the locals.

It looked like a lot of them had raced into town straight from morning milking on one of the many local dairy farms, getting there at half time. Others had come earlier from riding track work at one of the stud farms for which this part of the Waikato region was well known. Photos of horses, jockeys and trainers adorned the walls, along with pictures of lots of rugby teams. He didn't know the song whose lyrics were written on a whiteboard or its legend, being a 'bloody pom.) (Most people said it affectionately, but there were some who substituted "whingeing" for "bloody".)

The song in question was a Kiwi ditty, sung by and for men, called "Rugby, Racing and Beer', from an earlier time, not often played these days because some New Zealand women had become skilled at sabotaging the male crowd behaviour that went with the song. Often this meant women going into male bastions such as the public bars, drinking beer and knowing as much, if not more about the footie and the races as the men. Rather than beat the men, they had joined them, wives, girlfriends, sisters, and there were a fair few in the bar for this game.

A couple of the men had heard Charles' posh boy voice as he ordered from the bar and pounced on him, rubbing in the defeat with comments like, "Let me get this one for you, Pom! Looks like you need some cheering up after getting done like that" and "Jeez, that Biggar's class!" and "Your boys need to sort out the breakdown…fast" and "Shit, you Poms might miss out on the quarters!" and so on and so forth…

He gritted his teeth and took his drink back to the table where Molly was busy with her phone, texting to someone back in England, more than likely. It would be ten o'clock Saturday morning back in London and a good time to catch people at home. Suddenly, Molly burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" he snapped at her, as she quickly covered the screen with her palm. "What are you looking at? Who're you texting."

"Take it easy," she retorted. "Don't come over all Bossman on me! Not my fault your bleedin' team got done. I'm talking to Jackie." Something black showed between her fingers on the screen of her iPhone. She noticed him looking and tried to hit a button, obviously trying to clear the black thing, whatever it was. Charles had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, his palms were sweaty and he was suddenly furious. About what he wasn't yet sure, but he was too quick for Molly, snatching the phone from her. And there was another pair of All Black thighs. And a bronzed torso. And an array o complicated tattoos in all sorts of places including said thighs. And a pair of very small shorts worn low on the hips. He recognised the All Black immediately. Not Beaver, but SBW! Sonny Bill Williams!

"We talked about this stuff on Friday night, Molly," he protested. "Why are you perving over another bloody All Black?" He was really feeling the anger now as he hissed the words at her, clenching his jaw and sweating across his forehead. Those Captain Stern Face lines on his forehead were back. She was surprised at the ferocity of his reaction to the photo and answered him.

"Jackie's the one who's perving, along with at least half the female population of the world! Me, I'm just observing, having a look at his tattoos, talking to Jackie about the details of why she finds him so hot. Looking closely so I can understand what all the SBW love is about…" she smirked. Looking straight into his eyes, so intensely that he found it hard to breathe, she whispered "For fuck's sake, Charles, there are lots of sexy beasts out there and heaps of hot women. Of course we'll both notice that. But for me, I always come back to you and how much I like to look at YOUR bod. And do things, all sorts of naughty things, to it. And I'm not talking about it anymore because we're in a public place and I really want to hit on you right now. Even talking about it gets me wet. And by the look of you," she said, glancing at the general area of his tightly jean clad crotch, "soon you won't be able to stand up without people noticing what you're wanting to do. So don't get your nads in a tangle over SBW. I was ONLYTEASING."

Just then a roar of approval erupted in the bar. The game had been finished for a few minutes and the Welsh were jubilant. Charles couldn't help but think how Smurf would have enjoyed the victory, even though he was a football man through and through. The other guys in the platoon would have gotten a real ear bashing! Glancing at the screen, he saw a stocky silver haired guy excitedly jumping and pumping his arms in the air, obvious very pleased with the result and, it would seem, himself. "Good onya, Warren!" "Another bloody Waikato man!" "He showed those bloody Poms a thing or two!" And again, so on and so forth. Warren Gatland, coach of the Welsh team, Waikato born and bred, being appreciated out loud.

When James thought about it, and it was hard not to in this Rugby mad town in this Rugby obsessed country, you realised how many young men and coaches were part of other teams in the Rugby World Cup. Out of the blue, the lowly Japanese team had beaten the Springboks, with a Kiwi captain who had been living in Japan for some years. There were New Zealand players in the Irish, Scottish, Welsh and even the English teams, selected for their lineage that connected their bloodlines to the various Home countries. The coaches of the Canadian and Irish teams were New Zealanders as well. Suddenly it was altogether too much for Charles. He wanted out of the bar, right now.

With a flick of his head, he indicated to Molly that she should come with him.

"Steady, Boss," she said. "Actually, you're not my boss now, so you don't need to come on all captainy and flick orders at me with your head. Ask me, don't tell me.' He blushed and apologised. Charles was finding it difficult, still, not to always be in charge. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to get out of there. Are you happy to go now?

"Yep, but let's get a burger to eat on the way." They had noticed earlier that Matamata had a lot more takeaway places than would normally be expected in a small town. In conversation with the owner of their motel, they had found out that the town was a through route to Auckland one way and to the Bay of Plenty the other way. People would stop for food at all hours of the day and night and there was always somewhere open.

They would be visiting Auckland and the Bay later in their travels, but today they were going to the place which drew thousands of visitors each year to Matamata and created custom for the fast food outlets. They were going to Hobbiton.

As a boy, he had learned about the hobbits, orcs , elves, gnomes and wizards of Middle Earth from his father. Together they had read the JRR Tolkien books, large sections of them out loud in order to hear more clearly the beauty of his poetic language. It had been a wonderful experience for both and Charles was planning to start reading the books with Sam when he got back to England. He sought to enhance the reading by spending some time in the place where Tolkien's dream was given form and shape. He was aware that throughout the rest of their travels in New Zealand, he and Molly would be in places where Sir Peter Jackson had woven the magic that was the Lord of the Rings. This was the first place: he would be acutely alert to others as they travelled on.

Molly did not know the story. As they drove the ten kilometres of country road, Charles introduced her to the hairy-footed hobbits and to Gandalf the wizard. He knew she didn't like trees much but he had so far been encouraged by her lack of negative commentary about the very high concentration of trees in this country whose climate made it so easy for them to grow. She would, he said, be meeting a very happy tree, the discovery of which by Sir Peter, long before he was a "Sir", led to the siting of Hobbiton on a farm on the outskirts of Matamata.

For a girl who liked a good time, she could probably take a cue from Sir Ian McKellen and enjoy the power of "The Party Tree.

 _Your comments and support are really helpful and_ _I appreciate them all. Thanks! Please continue to read and review._


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